Us
by ZeeIternity
Summary: (One Shot) Kat and Hale arrive in the City of Love together. But how will Kat respond when Hale gets a little too nice with a concierge?


Kale FanFic

Kat/Hale. Hale got unbearably jealous of Nick after he kissed Kat, but when Kat gets jealous of every women Hale has ever made eyes at, the tables turn considerably.

Kat POV

Hale and I reached the hotel in Paris in the early hours of the morning. I paused to look at the sky, which had taken on a curious red colour, and I couldn't help but think of the old saying "Red sky at morning, Shepherd's warning." I turned to Hale, who was also staring at the sky, and apparently had the same thought as me, judging by the look on his face. He glanced down at me, his eyes never truly meeting mine, before heading into the building to check-in, with both of our suitcases. I quickly followed, shaken by the caution sewn into the clouds.

"That's Room 231, sir, if you need me for _anything_, let me know." the young lady at the front desk said in a heavy Parisian accent, putting an extra large stress on the word 'anything'. She was probably here on placement. Luckily for the woman, Hale flashed her one of his 100-kilowatt smiles, and she too was smiling, in the same way that most women smile when they see Hale, but the moment she saw me her face sobered considerably. Then it was my turn to flash a smile in her direction, whilst taking our room key from her and planting a quick kiss on Hale's cheek with an equally cheeky "Thanks, honey," before sauntering off into an open elevator. I watched both of their faces as the doors closed, and took me to my floor. The lady whose nametag said she was a Penelope (however I like to think of her as more of a Gertrude – emphasis on rude…) had a face that looked like she had just been caught doing something quite fishy with a hotel room key, whereas Hale looked furious, which I reveled in for a moment or so, but then became fairly confused by the look on his face.

The room Hale had got for us was gorgeous, modern but somehow archaic. The view out of the French doors (like literally _French_ doors) had one of the best views Paris had to offer; the only time I had experienced better was when I was hanging up side down from a helicopter outside of the Louvre. There was a large double bed on the right hand side of the room (typical Hale) and a lavish bathroom off to the left. Various other rooms were situated in various places, but none suited me better at this time than the bathroom. I decided to run myself a bath; besides, Hale could stay down at reception if he couldn't get into this goldmine of a room. Maybe he and Penelope could get a massage at the hotel spa…

I forgot he had the option of an extra key.

So as I got desperately relaxed in my very bubbly bubble bath – and by relaxed I mean singing various power ballads at the top of my voice – and by desperately, I mean singing power ballads at the top of my voice _badly_ – I didn't hear the door open, and a very angry… Wendy Hale…? walk into the apartment, and make his way to the bathroom door. What I did hear though, was our simultaneous gasps as he marched in on a naked (but well bubbled) Kat Bishop.

"Christ, Kat!" He exclaimed, covering his eyes and chucking a towel in my general direction. However grateful I felt towards extra foamy bubble bath, I could feel my skin burning a fiery shade of 'embarrassment' as I covered myself in the expensive and soft towel. To hell with my comfortable half hour!

"I'm covered." I said, trying to calm the nerves that were flaring up under the surface.

"Kat, what the hell was that out there?" Hale asked exasperatedly, trying hard to forget our current situation. I peeked up to see him maintaining his usual casual yet suave posture, which got all the girls' hearts racing, but at the minute it was making my blood boil.

"I don't know what you mean Hale, would you mind fetching me some clothes please, seeing as you interrupted my bath. I'm getting rather cold in this towel." I snapped, unsure where my anger was coming from.

"God dammit Kat," Hale sighed heavily, slamming his hand on the doorframe, "you know _exactly_ what I mean, and until we sort this out you can freeze, so you better make it quick." His eyes were burning holes into my own and I suddenly didn't feel cold anymore, instead I was consumed with a hot rage that wouldn't give way.

"You mean what happened in the lobby? Perhaps I did what I did because I'm sick of you flirting with any girl who has a pulse, Hale! Maybe I'm bored of you smiling at anyone who will give you time of day. You have the soul of an angel, your face looks like it's been carved by one - heck - maybe your bravado is just you compensating for whatever is in your pants other than your wallet!"

As soon as I'd yelled the words I wanted to take them back. Hale was a charming, kind boy who had been blessed with looks and good fortune. He never used them to get his way; he just had a way with words, and women. By the look on his face as what I said washed over him, he was hurt, big time. Then the hurt washed away and was replaced by anger.

"I'm sorry Hale, I –" I began, but Hale interjected.

"How can you be jealous, Kat? How on earth does that work, when I saw…" He trailed off.

"You saw what, Hale?" I asked slowly.

"I saw… You kissed Nick, how d'you think that makes me feel, Kat? You kissed that guy, how long did you know him before you locked lips with him? Turns out I was right about him too, not that anyone would listen!" He ranted; honestly I was too stunned to respond, so I let him continue. "How would you feel if I had met someone, you and this someone clash, and yet I think it's ok to kiss them – in public, might I add – in front of you and all of our friends, how _humiliated _would you have felt? How humiliated would you have felt, when you wanted to be the one kissing my lips? "

That was the final blow; I was dumbstruck. I stared at him in disbelief, did Hale, who I had known since I had tried to steal his Monet all that time ago, just confess that he wanted to _kiss_ me? Had he really just manipulated the feeling he had for me onto myself, to bring to light the feelings for him I had been hiding for what seemed like forever. Suddenly the towel I was holding in place seemed too short, seemed to bare too much flesh. Suddenly I, Katarina Bishop, was nervous and uncomfortable. I opened my mouth to form the words, to tell him that I was sorry and that I felt the same for him, but they wouldn't come. The gaping fish look never really seemed attractive to me, and as Hale turned away I began to think that the same went for everyone – nobody found the face I was pulling right now (which was a mixture or shock, delight, and a whole lot of confusion) the least bit attractive. Then my words found me.

"I didn't kiss Nick, Hale. He kissed me and you know it. I wouldn't have kissed him, even if it was a good cover up, I hardly know him, even now. And just so you know, if the situation had been reversed, I would've been so extremely jealous; I doubt you would've been able to sate me. I'm sorry for what I said, Haley." There was silence as I finished speaking, and then a zip sounded as Hale opened my suitcase and tossed my pyjamas around the doorframe. That's when I started to sniffle; I'd really blown it this time. I'd even called him Haley, which I hadn't done in years, and the last time I'd called him that was when I had to ring him to tell him I'd broken one of his favourite car figurines.

I put on my cow print pyjama bottoms and the matching top (which had the apt print of "Sorry, I'm a cow in the mornings.") and walked into the bedroom. Hale was sitting on the bed, his hands pressed down firmly on the mattress, head hung. As he looked up at me, and saw my pyjamas, he began to laugh, stifling it at first, and then letting out the most exquisite noise known to man. Once he had stopped and was grinning at me like a fool, he opened his arms to me, and I gladly accepted, relief flooding me as I walked into the safety of his embrace. A stray tear fell down from my eye and onto his cheek, when he felt it he pulled back.

"Kitty Kat, what's wrong?" He wiped the tear away and held my face, concern and love in his eyes. "You know I hate it when you're upset, please don't cry." He pulled me into him, sitting me on his lap, my head on his collarbone as he cradled me and kissed my forehead.

"Hale, I'm so sorry for what I've said and done recently. I wasn't being fair to you." I looked up at him through tear-heavy lashes, and he was smiling.

"I know, Kat; but I'm not sorry. I mean, you just look damn hot when you're jealous. Or angry. Or at any given time, to be honest." I swatted his chest, feeling his heartbeat for the briefest of moments. I can't believe I didn't notice it sooner; he was only wearing his superman pyjama bottoms again. I smiled at him, suddenly tired out after all of the fighting. I walked around to my side of the bed and got under the covers, Hale followed suit. After everything we've been through sleeping in the same bed didn't seem weird to us, it was comfortable. It was right. But in seven hours or so I'd be getting ready to see Arturo Taccone, and I was scared, I only had four of his beloved paintings. I was more than scared - I was petrified.

"Hold me?" I asked the early morning, unsure whether Hale was still awake, then his safe, strong arms wrapped themselves around me and pulled me close to his chiseled body. It only took me a few minutes to fall asleep; as Hale's quiet whispering brought me into a deep slumber.

I awoke at 8:30 the following day to an empty bed. I listened out for the familiar voice of W. W. Hale the Fifth, but to no avail. Slightly disappointed I walked over to the mirror and looked at myself. No wonder Hale had left, I looked awful! Dark bags were under my eyes after all of the travelling I'd been doing and my hair was the epitome of bed-head horror. Within five minutes I was dressed, cleaned and sorting out my hair when I heard the key in the door. Hale! _Act natural, Kat! Act Natural!_

"Hey!" called Hale through the apartment. He walked into the room just as I was tying up my hair into a safe ponytail. He approached me and stood behind me in the mirror, gazing at me through the reflective glass. Then he wrapped his arms around me, for the second time in 24 hours, and rested his head on my shoulder. I stared at us, two people who pretended to be a couple countless times whilst I had been working, just the way I had remembered in those three months at Colgan.

"Good luck today." He said to my reflection.

"Thanks" my reflection said back.

He turned me to him, looked me deep in the eyes, and before he kissed me he repeated our earlier words:

"No guts, no glory." He smirked

"I'm in way over my head" I replied with a smile.

Then he kissed me, so softly, as though I might break. After all this time, it was comfortable. It was right. It was us.


End file.
